


Get a Grip, Victor

by DawnOfTomorrow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Either about Yuuri or himself, M/M, Misunderstandings, Or a clue, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov's Foot Fetish, Victor just underestimates Yuuri, Victor needs to get a grip, except not really, some non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 02:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnOfTomorrow/pseuds/DawnOfTomorrow
Summary: Victor Nikiforov had a secret. Unlike 'normal' secrets that are kept that way for good, harmless reasons, he kept his simply because he knew the truth would destroy everything he truly treasured.His first offer to massage Yuuri's feet after a particularly trying training session was thoughtless. The several dozen that followed were anything but. Massages became so common that when Victor didn't offer, for whatever reason, that Yuuri would slip his skates off and HOLD OUT his foot to Victor and on those occasions his knees would slam into the ground before Yuuri so hard he'd have to bite back a whimper - of course, none of that showed on his face.He really needed to get a grip.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of nowhere - I read another fic where Victor has a foot thing, didn't like it and then I found out that this was apparently a 'thing' in the fandom and though this is soooooooo not my taste, I had to write it anyway. Thank GOD that particular plot bunny is gone!!

Victor Nikiforov had a secret. Unlike 'normal' secrets that are kept that way for good, harmless reasons, he kept his simply because he knew the truth would destroy everything he truly treasured.

It was an addiction, one he recently discovered and one that, thankfully for him, required no harmful substances and no needles. Good thing too, Victor hated needles more than anything else.

This addiction of his, this secret, began simple and small. So small that, the first time it happened, he didn't even realise. Having only recently started coaching Yuuri Katsuki, the two of them were standing in a rink, talking about a routine.

Now obviously, he already knew that he was attracted to Yuuri, he had EYES after all - the slightly younger skater held a calm kind of beauty, one that matched well with Victor's preference for flashy things. Not that Yuuri wasn't flashy - on the ice (and drunk at banquets) he could command the attention of thousands, really, and with the flick of his wrist.

It wasn't his wrists though, that Victor held an interest in, no. It was Yuuri's feet. The man WAS a skater after all, and as his coach, Victor had to spend time staring at his skates to correct posture and the like. The fact that this might have been a bit of an excuse from the beginning (and that he'd stared even at the banquet with no skates in sight) didn't occur to him until later.

When it did, it was already too late. Quietly talking, he has bent to lace his own skate a little better. Bent over like he was, he compared of course - Yuuri, with his smaller feet and matching black skates was just so much cuter than Victor and his own, similarities aside. Really, that would have been the end of that particular incident... Except that Yuuri tapped the back of his head.

A tiny gesture, a mere finger lightly pushing him down... But as soon as he felt it, he simply couldn't make himself stand up again. No, he wanted... He needed to be closer. So, he did the only thing he could.

Victor was a smart man, despite his behaviour and tendency to forget important things not currently in his sight. He made up an excuse, pretended to be hurt, and let himself collapse on the ice.

It brought him closer, eye-level with Yuuri's skates and... It was easy, really. Perhaps that fact should have been a problem... But mere inches away from Yuuri's skates (a distance that would make most people uncomfortable based on the blades attached to them alone), Victor felt a certain... twinge in his gut.

It really wasn't a big deal. The moment was broken when Yuuri, his ADORABLE Yuuri started apologising, started practically begging for forgiveness for something that didn't bother Victor in the first place. It was the cutest thing, really... And it did interrupt the moment, something Victor was surprisingly relieved by. His thoughts hadn't wandered anywhere too strange yet but he knew they would have if he let them.

He couldn't have met Yuuri's eyes if his life had depended on it then. Born a natural showman, by the time Victor had stood up again, everything was fine, he was back to normal even, and they continued.

But then... Then it happened again. It happened more and more. A small twinge in his gut at certain moments. A hesitant reaction to Yuuri's steps on the ice, to him massaging his own feet after practice. Victor knew well the pains and aches that it could bring - he'd skated for over two decades after all.

So, without giving it a proper thought, he offered to massage Yuuri's feet for him one day after practice. Yuuri had looked up, in surprise, of course. It wasn't exactly common for a coach to do this for a skater... Though it wasn't all THAT unusual either. Victor had expected Yuuri to say no, to scamper away... But then, he realised, the other skater hadn't actually done that in quite some time.

So, with innocent brown eyes looking up at him (and WHY did they always have to look so INNOCENT?), Yuuri had nodded and Victor's heart had nearly beaten out of his chest. He'd found himself on his knees before Yuuri who was sitting on a bench in the changing rooms, his foot on his lap, his fingers massaging in the way he knew would be most effective.

Victor had received plenty of massages, he knew exactly what would feel best to Yuuri - the small sigh he received when he tackled a particularly sore spot was just proof of his skills, for him. He avoided blisters, eased up near bruises and bore down on tense spots.

He found it easy to focus, to concentrate with a single-mindedness he normally reserved for skating. When he was done, he even managed to convince himself that he had only done it to help Yuuri, that he had had no ulterior motives, that the twinge in his gut hadn't turned into a pleasant warmth that spread.

It was a lie of course. Victor had become an addict and he hadn't even noticed. It bothered him of course, but among the many things that bothered him, at first, it was only one of many.

Really, he was far more interested in the other man's reactions to him. Yuuri had stopped dodging, had stopped running away, let Victor closer now... But never close enough. When Yuuri had started accepting his touches, he'd thought they were finally headed the right way, that the other man was interested in him the same way.

Victor had posed for him in the onsen for God's sake... But no. If Yuuri was interested - and Victor caught him looking - then he hid it well. The Japanese skater was shy, tentative, on the ice and off it... But the fact that he was slowly coming out of his shell was progress.

It felt like victories to him, and there were so many. It felt like a victory when Yuuri landed a jump, felt like one when he chuckled when Victor hugged him. It felt like one when his eyes lit up at the promise of katsudon... And okay, maybe Victor was exaggerating his victories a little, but what choice did he have?

He was a born winner, he was so good at it... Success came naturally to him in almost all things. He could out-skate others, out-drink half of Japan, out-smile that girl that Yuuri had a crush on (and really, wasn't Victor so much prettier? He was almost offended that Yuuri had had a crush on her and not him), and so on.

The only person Victor regularly (and with gusto) lost to was himself. Practically every time he wanted to resist reaching for his student, wanted to resist getting a little too close while correcting his posture, he failed spectacularly.

It was the same when it came to Yuuri's feet. Massages became so common that on the rare occasions Victor wasn't already there, offering after practice, that Yuuri would slip his skates off and HOLD OUT his foot to Victor and on those occasions his knees would slam into the ground before Yuuri so hard he'd have to bite back a whimper - of course, none of that showed on his face.

He smiled like he always did, reprimanding Yuuri for mistakes the other man made, no matter how small or insignificant. Yuuri was his student, and his performance needed to be perfect, as perfect as he had seen Yuuri be before. As perfect as his feet felt in Victor's lap as his fingers moved in near mindless patterns.

The pleasant jolt in his stomach, the hesitant warmth that bloomed had already changed to something more substantial, something he refused to give name to. It felt good, always so good, to the point where he would pout of they were in too much of a hurry for him to do it, or if Yuuri refused his offer for this reason or another.

It didn't matter why he refused, but when he did, it made Victor unhappy. An unhappy Victor was a pouty Victor, and thankfully a pouty Victor meant that Yuuri would indulge him in something else later. Never quite what Victor really wanted, but Yuuri would let him sit closer, would let him into his room, would, on very rare occasions let him sleep in the same bed.

A tactile creature by nature, Victor liked all of that more than the reserved Yuuri did, but it warmed his heart when the other skater accepted it from him anyway.

The oxymoron that was Yuuri had fascinated him from the beginning - he skated like a god but flubbed his competitions, he had no qualms about baring his body to wandering eyes (and Victor had seen and glared at PLENTY such eyes that dared to look at what would be his) in the onsen, yet blushed if Victor so much as touched his cheek.

When he assigned him the Eros part, it was pure self-indulgence. Seeing how much he struggled with it, Victor was actually a little afraid. He knew the other COULD do it, he just wasn't sure he would... And since it was all strung up as a competition, one he'd agreed to in blind faith that Yuuri would win, him losing would mean no more touching, hugging and no more massages after practice.

He practically heaved at the unbidden thought of doing the same to Yurio, to anyone else really. No, it had to be Yuuri, his Yuuri... And then, 'his' Yuuri had nearly killed him.

He'd done SPECTACULARLY well in the competition, had shown off something he hadn't seen from the other before... And at the beginning, he'd asked Victor not to take his eyes off him... As if there was anything else in the world with him on the ice.

Victor had briefly been concerned that Yuuri thought there was when he clearly knew there was not, but then he'd pushed away and Victor had nearly followed. Staying put had been another one of his little victories, one of the most difficult ones.

Watching Yuuri skate his routine had felt both intimate and obscene. Obscene because so many people were watching, admiring, were being seduced by the sensual display... And intimate because he made the same motions Victor had, the exact same ones and for a few moments, that let Victor fool himself into thinking they made them together, a parody of the motions he wanted to share with Yuuri, the ones he fully planned on sharing with Yuuri as soon as the other would have him.

He'd felt disappointed in himself too, for momentarily not believing Yuuri would win. He hadn't felt guilt over the massage afterwards, this time filled with praises and compliments - he'd already criticised earlier after all - hadn't felt guilty that he had enjoyed it even more than usual because Yuuri had been flushed and sweaty from something he'd done in order to keep Victor with him.

No, the guilt for his secret came a little later. The other Yuri, Yurio had already left, back home to an angry Yakov, the celebrations already over.

Victor had gone to sleep in his own bed without so much as asking Yuuri to sleep with him for once. There had been something bothering him, something he needed to think about. Think about it he did, laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling of the inn. He'd thought about the performance, about how spectacular the other man had looked, graceful and inviting and sensual.

He'd seen glimpses of it before but even half-naked and wrapped around a pole at that banquet, Victor hadn't seen him look quite so... Yuuri. So Eros.

He'd been exhausted after the performance, kicking his skates off more than he had really taken them off, sinking against the bench he sat on half-dead. Victor had done what he always did, kneeling down and massaging his feet.

He'd looked up at his protégé, HIS Yuuri and had let his fingers trace patterns like they always did. Yuuri had been red in the face, more than after a normal practice. He'd been out of breath a little, and he'd smiled.

Now, in his bed alone, Victor trailed his hand over his chest. Yuuri was so CUTE when he smiled. He let himself remember the way his own hands had slid over the skin of Yuuri's bare feet, how he'd quickly discarded the socks he wore in his skates with a wrinkle of his nose.

How Yuuri had hummed in pleasure at the relief of the tension, both from his feet and his calves. It would have been easy for Victor to slide his hands higher, past his knees, to his thighs. He never did, never had - but there, in his bed, he imagined it.

Imagined the rest of Yuuri's skin, imagined it feeling just as soft, just as pleasing under his fingertips. He imagined the massage ending differently. Imagined Yuuri naked, still on that bench, but with Victor's face buried between his legs, fulfilling promises made on the ice. He would have done it in a heartbeat of course, but Yuuri and him weren't like that (at least not yet, and they would BE like that soon enough if he had his way) and he couldn't.

His fingers trailed lower on his body, imagining what Yuuri's fingers would feel like grasping his hair, pulling him closer, making him choke as he'd suck... It was glorious. Stroking himself in time to his fantasy's movements, he thought about more, thought about Yuuri lifting those pretty feet of his, of him placing one of them on Victor's hard length as he sucked him, of stepping down on him.

He came with a quiet moan, stifled by the back of his hand as he shuddered at the idea of Yuuri stroking him, through his clothes, maybe in time with his rhythm on his student's cock... And then, then the shame had set in.

It was hardly the first time he thought about being with Yuuri (again, he wasn't blind), but it WAS the first time he considered his massages in a sexual context. It was also the first time he'd allowed himself to touch himself at his fantasies.

He'd been tempted before but Yuuri's innocence had always made him hesitate. The Yuuri on the ice that day had been anything but innocent of course... But it wasn't that aspect that really bothered him about his fantasies.

No, it was that he finally had to acknowledge the reasons for the dozens of massages, for the pouting if he didn't get to do it after training. There was no more happy denial, no Victor had to admit to himself that he had... A problem.

He was mature enough to do so.

He was, however, also an addict, and as time went on, he did stupider and stupider things to get a fix. Staring while Yuuri skated was obvious, easy to explain and all but expected. It also wasn’t enough. The fact that the man walked bare-foot in his home helped, but that wasn’t enough either.

When the competitive season started and they had to travel, stay in hotel rooms (together of course), he’d see the man step in and out of the shower, feet dripping wet. That was nice too, given the privacy between them, with no strangers to eye Yuuri...but it still wasn’t enough.

Since his obsession, his desire, was, of course, a secret, he knew he had to tread carefully. When one day he sptted that Yuuri had tied his shoes improperly, had missed a hook on one side of the lacing, he’d knelt down to fix it in a heartbeat.

Yuuri had smiled, blushed, thanked him and stepped on the ice. A few moments later, once the heat that Victor felt, the thrill at the chance to TOUCH had faded, he leaned against the wall, watching him skate. That had been a good day.

He noticed that Yuuri made mistakes with the lacing of his shoes more and more the closer the competitions came. It worried him a little, that the pressure was getting to his student so much, but at the same time he knew there was no risk of Yuuri injuring himself since he was always watching anyway, and that pointing it out would mean that he would loose his chances.

He knew what the right choice was, that he had to tell him to be careful.

He did not say a word. Kneeling before Yuuri, whether he was standing or sitting, became not only something that happened several times per week, but it also became the main feature of Victor’s fantasies when he was alone. There was plenty of other stuff as well, of course – he particularly liked to imagine himself and Yuuri, out in an empty ice rink, the other taking him from behind, however impractical that would be in reality – but on the whole, the fantasies that did NOT involve him on his knees at least at some point, were rare.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to mind, not when Yuuri made it so EASY. The man was shy, innocent, reserved...except for when he wasn’t. When he pulled Victor down, forwards, when he met his eye and said something that would be incredibly cheesy and lame from anyone else but that would almost make Victor whimper. Yuuri made his head spin, and the other man hardly seemed to be aware of it.

Other people started to tease them about it. Chris did, of course, but even Phitchit would comment and Yurio kept calling them gross. It stung, every time, because despite what they were implying, they really weren’t like that. Victor wanted to be, GOD did he want to be...but it just didn’t happen.

His flirting was ignored, even when he could see the other man look at him with desire when he thought Victor wasn’t paying attention. Victor always paid attention.

Then, for no particular reason that Victor could tell, things began to...change a little. Just a little. Instead of tolerating his touches, Yuuri would initiate them from time to time. He’d lean into Victor’s embraces and his blushes became rarer.

It was a bit of a loss to Victor but the increased intimacy made up for it in his opinion. They slid into something like a relationship surprisingly naturally. There were no big declarations, no confessions of any sort, just more smiles, a hand that slid into another, a quiet kiss to the forehead or the corner of the mouth and so on.

The biggest ‘moment’ they shared was the time Victor kissed him as he got off the ice much later – it was passionate, even though it only lasted a moment. He’d half-hoped that Yuuri would come to him that night, maybe...he did not, of course.

It was the most stupidly infuriating thing Victor had ever experienced and he loved it anyway. He loved Yuuri, much as he had never said the words. He was sure the other loved him as well, it was visible in his eyes far too often to not be the case… Except that they never went beyond that.

Victor could understand, in the middle of the cups of course. There was never enough sleep as it was, too much stress, too much training. He could understand that the less experienced man didn’t have the energy to take what he needed from Victor then.

It worsened his guilt to near painful levels. Even when they had become a couple (much as they hadn’t had sex yet), he couldn’t stop thinking about it. If anything, that got worse too. At one point, he’d snuck away after a performance to get himself off in one of the bathrooms and even for him that had been a low point.

He didn’t stop though, couldn’t stop. Not even during competitions, he’d still kneel down and double-check Yuuri’s skates were tied properly, that they were comfortable and that the blades were undamaged. It helped with the stress he felt, right before watching Yuuri compete.

It made him feel centred, gave him back some of the composure he was famous for. It was a strange moment of intimacy between them in the middle of hundreds if not thousands of people and missing it...bothered him.

Since Yuuri never seemed to mind, he continued, ignoring the snickers other people gave them. He was the last person to care about things like that. Then, inevitably, he’d watch Yuuri skate, cataloguing the little mistakes the other made even as his heart ached at the beauty of it all. The hugs afterwards, sitting together in the Kiss&Cry, something he’d never enjoyed before, felt good now – it was always just him and Yuuri, together.

That’s what he wanted to be – together with Yuuri.

Still though...they weren’t. Together that is. Not like that. Not the way he wanted to be. They walked down the street together shopping, an arm around each other, and STILL.

He was beginning to fear it never would happen at all – much as he wanted to say that he was okay with that, that he loved Yuuri enough not to care, he couldn’t quite convince himself of it. The fact that he was beginning to develop a consistent ache in his left hand from jerking himself off so much was a problem too.

Yuuri kept shooting him glances, ones filled with just as much longing as his own...but just like in the beginning, if he tried to initiate something, it was inevitably rejected or dodged. Playing with Yuuri’s feet became a sort of defiant rebellion. It was the one intimate (and for Victor, embarrassingly sexual) act that Yuuri permitted.

Occasionally he wondered if THAT was why he liked it so much – he’d certainly never had an interest in anyone else’s feet before – but really, it’s not. He doesn’t quite understand it all that much, just understands that he needs it.

The guilt increases every single time he gets himself off to the memory of Yuuri skating, the feel of his hands on Yuuri’s feet, the mental images of himself pleasuring Yuuri… There is a lot of guilt, now, and it’s ever increasing.

Addict that he is though, it’s never enough. One night, the night after Yuuri does so very spectacularly in the Rostelecom cup, Victor invites Yuuri out for drinks. He feels worse than usual because that time the entire thing is PLANNED rather than coincidental, and that’s worse, he knows that’s worse… And he does it anyway because he needs it.

He gets Yuuri drunk. Drunk Yuuri is… Well, he’s all sorts of handsy and Victor enjoys every minute of it. Still, he’s not THAT sort of pervert – he wouldn’t sleep with Yuuri while he’s drunk. Never.

No, what he does is almost worse. He waits for them to get back to the hotel, waits for Yuuri to fall into bed, still fully dressed, and to pass out. He’s careful, of course, so careful. When Yuuri is well and truly passed out, he carefully opens his belt and removes it – to make him more comfortable.

Then comes the part he really wanted – he carefully slips off Yuuri’s shoes and socks. It’s easy to explain the next morning, he reasons. Yuuri is face-down on the bed now, having flipped to his stomach after Victor pulled off his belt and Victor is already half-hard in his pants.

Checking that Yuuri is still asleep, he carefully reaches for Yuuri’s left foot, fingers trembling as he does because he KNOWS what he’s doing is wrong...but he has to do it anyway. To begin with, he simply traces the outlines, the shapes.

When that isn’t enough any more, when Yuuri hums in his sleep and shifts a little, he presses his face forwards, nuzzles his nose, his lips against Yuuri’s foot, the way he’s fantasized about doing dozens of times, the way he wants to after every practice, every competition. His hand is down his own pants faster than he’s ever moved for anything, and then…

It’s almost everything he’s ever wanted.

Stroking himself, his cheek pressed to the heel of Yuuri’s foot feels wonderful, even as a large part of his mind is screaming at him to stop, that what he’s doing is wrong… It doesn’t matter. Not then, at least. He only dares to let his tongue slip past his lips once, a teasing lick to the heel that makes Yuuri shiver even while asleep, and then his mind goes white with pleasure as he comes into his hand.

The next morning, when Yuuri wakes up and thanks him, Victor regrets it. The next night, when he’s jerking off to the memory of it, he thinks about it, imagines Yuuri waking up in the middle of it, making him stop, pulling him up by his hair and PUNISHING him for what he’s done. He regrets it a little less after that.

There aren’t any more easy opportunities to get Yuuri drunk, unfortunately, and as it happens there are fewer other opportunities as well. Yuuri no longer ties his skates messily, has an excuse after practice to skip the massages more often than not and Victor hates it. Yes, he still has everything else, the hand-holding, the sweet kisses, the hugs, the teasing looks Yuuri shoots him every now and again and that’s wonderful but the one, single sexual thing he had is all but gone.

At that point, even he himself can admit that he’s an addict and that he needs to stop before he does something stupid.

He does something stupid. On national television. Yuuri has skated beautifully, perfectly, so well that he himself couldn’t even take time to really criticise anything (though he watched a recording later and did it anyway). Since Yuuri complained so, so much after Victor kissed him that one time, he promised he wouldn’t do it again...but that twisted, desperate, addicted part of him points out that that’s all he promised not to do...and so, so he finds himself on his knees, before Yuuri in the Kiss&Cry.

That alone would have been enough for him to get a semi, really, except he has to push it more and so he lifts up Yuuri’s unresisting foot and presses a kiss to the skate.

Awareness of what he’d done sets in as soon as he lets go and he stayed put for a few moments, desperately hoping that his erection would go down. Forcing his eyes up to Yuuri, he realised that he sort of forgot one important thing: The reaction Yuuri may have to him doing that.

The fear at least does the trick as far as his erection is concerned… except that Yuuri doesn’t LOOK angry. He looks almost indulgent, but not mad. For a long moment, he feared that he may have given himself away, that maybe, just maybe, Yuuri KNOWS now… and that would be the end of the hugs, the sweet kisses, the hand-holding.

Victor doesn’t want that. He’s terrified of it, actually. All the massage sessions in the world wouldn’t be worth that – absolutely nothing would be worth it. Still… Yuuri didn’t react badly. In fact, he didn’t react at all, really.

It left Victor confused because when he’d met his eyes, there had been a spark of something there, something he couldn’t quite give a name to. Still, erection-less if confused, he’d at least been able to stand up without making a fool of himself.

Well, more than he already had. He’s actually a little insulted that Yuuri just turns away and cheers on Yurio. Wasn’t Victor more interesting to look at? He’d thought he was at the very least.

Still, what he’d done sat at the forefront of his mind for the rest of the day. There wasn’t a chance to be alone with Yuuri, a chance to talk, a chance to do anything at all. No, all he could do was _wait_.

Then, his world had turned upside down – Makkachin had fallen ill. He’d seen Yuuri’s face fall on the phone, had remembered that Yuuri had lost his own dog directly before his own competition the year before...and then Yuuri hadn’t hesitated a moment to tell him to go to Japan.

Things after that had been a blur. He’d been on a plane to Hasetsu (to HOME, in his mind) before he had even had a chance to think of anything else. Only on the plane had he realised how self-sacrificing Yuuri had been...because Yuuri loved Makkachin too, and Yuuri had still given up his coach, his boyfriend, without the slightest hesitation, just out of concern for Victor and Makkachin.

Victor couldn’t recall a time he’d felt more loved by anyone. It doubled the guilt that had already reached near-critical mass in him. Paired with the anguish at potentially losing Makkachin, he’d been nearly throwing up right until he got to wrap his arms around his beloved dog – alive and well.

Makkachin had come out the other end alive and he had OF COURSE taken her back with him. He didn’t hold Yuuri’s family responsible but he just couldn’t leave his dog out of his sight quite again. He’d been on the first flight back, Yuuri had picked him up not just at the airport but IN the airport, literally as soon as humanly possible and then he’d held Victor, had embraced him, Makkachin happily jumping up their legs the entire time and Victor had to revise his statement – THAT was the moment he felt most loved.

Yuuri had all but proposed to him and Victor swore to him he’d never do anything without Yuuri’s consent, without his knowledge again. Not when Yuuri was kind, and sweet and so very caring even towards someone like him.

His conviction lasted right until the finals. Yuuri had given him A RING, had proposed to him for real, just before the final skate. It had made Victor weak in the knees (and for once, he’d thought, that was for all the right reasons). They had hugged, had had dinner with friends and been the perfect couple...and then they’d gone back to their hotel room and Yuuri had called Makkachin up on his bed and fallen asleep.

Victor had felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He’d tried to accept it, tried to accept that Yuuri didn’t want him like that, and really, it wasn’t that big a deal, was it? He’d changed his clothes and gone to sleep, barely fighting tears. He had the most beautiful person in the world...if he got everything except for sex, then surely he was supposed to be okay with that?

But Victor was selfish, and the next day, he had… well, he’d gone right back to it, had sunk to his knees before Yuuri’s Eros routine. He’d tightened up his laces, and it had been DIFFERENT that time – he hadn’t done it to be sexual but because he was so incredibly grateful to have Yuuri, so stunned, amazed and thankful to have the wonderful man in his life...except he still got that same feeling in his gut and he couldn’t tell Yuuri that it was different because Yuuri didn’t know why he did it.

The younger man had just smiled down at him, had had an indulgent look in his face and for a moment it had felt like they had shared an intimate...something, then an announcement had sounded and Yuuri had gone out to the ice. Victor had leaned against the wall, watching, always watching. His fingers had twirled his ring – Yuuri wore his own as well, despite the strict rules on jewellery during performances.

It had been the only thing that had soothed his thoughts as Victor had watched, the only thing grounding him against his fear, the nervousness at Yuuri’s peak performance. The disgust at himself for the way he hadn’t even hesitated before kneeling down when he’d seen just how loose Yuuri’s lace had been. Really, he was surprised the man had even been able to walk like that, much less planning to skate like it.

Victor had gripped his ring more tightly, watching.

And then… then Yuuri had destroyed his world and put it back together and Victor had been floating over to the man – he had no idea how Yuuri had even seen him, how he’d known where to point as he stopped in his last position… Still, he’d managed to point right at Victor’s heart.

Of course, Victor had been in love with Yuuri for a long time. It was YUURI after all...but at that moment, he truly understood why figure skaters had fans, why Yurio had an entire fan-club. If Yuuri had one, he’d be its president.

Victor was dimly aware that things were happening, that medals were being handed out, that Yuuri was approaching him with a medal...and that he’d said something stupid again. He did that, around Yuuri. Still, this time the other man didn’t get angry, didn’t smile wryly, this time he JUMPED him and Victor found himself under Yuuri’s warm, sweaty body… And then he heard one of the top three things he wanted to hear in life.

Yuuri would keep skating. Him and Yuuri, they’d be competing the next season. The other two things he wanted to hear from Yuuri were much simpler and much less skating-oriented. He wanted the smaller man to tell him ‘I want to have sex with you.’ and ‘Get on your knees, Victor.’

Little did he know, he’d hear both of those things that very same night.


	2. Chapter 2

The banquet, the stupid banquet, the banquet that just one short year ago, Yuuri had captivated him at for the first time… Victor hated it more than he could remember ever hating anything for any reason.

It made him irrationally angry. Yuuri enjoyed it. He was laughing, smiling, taking selfies with Phitchit and his medal – his STUPID silver medal. He was elated of course, that his student had done well – how could he not be? He was so, so proud...except that Yuuri had said something after, long after they left the rink when they had already gone back to the hotel – he said it just as they entered the hotel the party was held at together.

One sentence and it had it had nearly thrown Victor’s world off-kilter. It had been a throw-away sentence too, said with the same kind of passion one might put into ‘How do you do?’ or maybe ‘How are the kids?’.

Except Yuuri had said NEITHER of those things. No, what he had said was simultaneously the best and worst question Victor had ever been asked. Yuuri had walked through a door, he wasn’t sure which one, and had looked back at Victor who was holding said door open for him to step through.

He’d smiled, a sort of indulgent, sweet smile, an INNOCENT smile...and then he’d said it. The words. “Victor, would you like to be on your knees for me tonight?” Victor hadn’t replied. How COULD he? He wasn’t even sure he’d really heard the words.

How could sweet, innocent Yuuri even...no, it probably wasn’t that. Couldn’t be that. Except that when Victor hadn’t replied, Yuuri’s smile had changed, just for a moment, into something Eros, something he never saw off the ice.

Then that had been gone too and Victor wasn’t sure whether he’d dreamed that TOO because that still made more sense than reality. He had no idea what Yuuri would have seen on his face then and there. He didn’t want to imagine it. It probably wasn’t pretty.

Either way though, it left Victor raw, and empty and wanting and then… Yuuri led him to the party. Where he caught the other man sneaking glances at him whenever he WASN’T busy with other people.

‘Watch me.’ His eyes said. As if Victor could stop. He didn’t know what the word MEANT. He didn’t care. He just followed Yuuri, content to chase until eventually Yuuri would hopefully turn around and explain what was happening because he needed that more than anything and also they had JUST made up and they were going to BE together, but Victor just didn’t know any more.

He went to the bathroom, at one point, just to calm himself down. Staring at the mirror didn’t help his confusion, his excitement any. The cold water he splashed on his wrists and face helped a little.

When the bathroom door opened, he didn’t even try to look less pathetic for whoever came in. He didn’t care.

He started caring when a small, familiar, warm hand settled on his lower back. He didn’t have to turn, didn’t have to look. The hand would be wearing a gold band just like his. “Are you okay?” Victor nearly whimpered. How could the man sound so...earnest? So concerned? It wasn’t fair.

“Victor!” The voice tried again, and this time it wasn’t a question, it was an order. He had to turn. Looking at Yuuri was...odd. The man looked like he always did, save for the medal around his neck. “Y-Yuuri! Of course, I’m just fine.” He forced a smile, abandoned it a moment later. Yuuri wouldn’t buy it.

Warm hands settled on his shoulders. “You’re not okay, Victor. Please, talk to me. Is it me? Is it what I said earlier?” This time Victor really DID whimper because Yuuri really HAD said it, and he wasn’t going crazy. Well, crazier.

“I...” Yuuri’s face softened, into something so sweet, and then lips pressed against his own. The kiss lasted for a few long moments, and when Yuuri drew back, Victor had some of his strength back. “Did I overdo it? I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

He snorted. “Yuuri, my love… I, just...” Yuuri stepped back. “Oh no, I got it wrong, didn’t I? I mean, I thought you wanted- but I must have been mistaken. Victor, I’m SO sorry-” He reaches forwards, his fingers settling over Yuuri’s mouth before he can finish.

“NO! No, it’s not that. It’s just. I didn’t expect it. Didn’t think...and now I can’t think and...” Yuuri’s hand settles over his mouth and cuts him off too.

It occurs to them both how idiotic they probably look, standing in the men’s room at the banquet, holding each other’s mouths shut. He feels Yuuri’s lips twitch into a smile even as he himself laughs, a little hysterically.

It helps.

“We need to talk, don’t you think?” Yuuri offers and he nods. They do. Just...somewhere else. “Our room?” Yuuri can read minds now apparently, and that is NOT good news for Victor. He shudders. “Yes. Don’t you need to stay at the banquet though?” Yuuri gives him an amused smile. “I’ve been telling people I’m tired all evening. Nobody will think anything if I leave. Come on, let’s go.”

Victor follows. Clear, simple instructions. He can do that, he likes that.

He doesn’t even realise they’re in their hotel room until he drops onto the bed – Yuuri’s bed, Yuuri’s half of the pushed-together twin beds, anyway. “So...” He begins and Yuuri smiles. “What I said when we came into the building...it startled you?” Victor nodded. “I see. Is that...because I was wrong about what you want? Or was it something else?”

Victor hides his face in his hands, teeth clenched. So Yuuri really DOES know, and it’s not fair – sure, he hasn’t been as careful as he was in the beginning, but still, he didn’t think he had been obvious either…

He felt hot tears burn in his eyes for the second time in as many days. Yuuri couldn’t shouldn’t know. Sweet, innocent Yuuri...but he did know. It was too late. “No, you’re right. I do...want that. I just, I didn’t know you knew.”

He was impressed with how calm his voice sounded, portraying nothing of his feelings. Yuuri snorts and Victor is actually insulted for a few moments. “You’re...kidding, right? About me not knowing? Victor, you went on your knees for me ON NATIONAL TELEVISION.”

Victor winced. He had done that, hadn’t he? Still, if that was all that Yuuri knew, then maybe something could be salvaged, maybe he could hide the rest at least. He’d never made a secret of his feelings for Yuuri after all, so maybe…

“Victor, you’ve been giving me foot massages almost every day. You LACE MY SKATES for me. It’s...pretty obvious.” Victor’s sight goes blurry. “I...see.” “Were you trying to be subtle?” Yuuri’s voice is amused and it actually, physically hurts Victor. He doesn’t need the mockery, not from Yuuri.

Closing his eyes, he keeps his face hidden still. “Viktor, Vitya, please talk to me.” His head snapped up at the nickname – Yuuri had never used it before. Meeting his boyfriend’s – or was it ex now? – face made the guilt, the shame, well up even past the fear.

A strange part of him was glad for it. He DESERVED the humiliation after what he’d done to Yuuri. “Yuuri, I, I’m sorry.”

“For?” He balled his hands into fists, grimacing. “For...using you like that without your consent. I should have asked. Actually no, I just shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.” Yuuri’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at him.

“Ah, when do you think I figured it out, exactly?” Victor shrugged. “Around the time I...the kneeling on TV thing?” Yuuri fell back onto the bed, and to Victor’s complete indignation, positively HOWLED with laughter.

It took him several minutes to calm down, minutes Victor used to compose himself – or to try to do so, at the very least. Eventually, Yuuri looked back to him, still laying on his back.

“I figured it out after three or four massages, Victor. I’ve known since _Japan_.” Victor would later deny that he shrieked in shock. Grown men didn’t do such things. If he made an utterly undignified sound though, he rather thought he could be excused.

“You...knew? And you didn’t...stop me?” At least this time, Yuuri looked embarrassed. “I, uh, wasn’t sure why, at first. I thought it might just be...a thing, for you, you know.” He swallowed in embarrassment. “So I sort of asked Yurio, and when he just kind of made dry-heaving sounds on the phone I sort of figured you might be doing it because you, uh like me.”

So the other had figured out Victor’s most shameful secret BEFORE REALISING HE LIKED YUURI? Victor groaned in shame. “And then, uh, I did some research.” “Research.” Victor echoed, stupefied.

“Yeah. On the Internet. And it was...honestly, it was pretty icky. All of it.” A new wave of tears spilled over his cheeks. Yuuri thought he was disgusting. Well, he WAS. Still, it hurt. More than anything ever had, really.

“V-Victor, no! Wait, no! I’m not done. Listen to me, please.” He did – what else was he to do, after all? “I was really scared for a bit. Because what I looked and watched, it was all so...not my thing. And I was going to ask you to stop but then I realised that it didn’t bother me. What you were doing. And then I noticed...well, I noticed that it seemed to relax you.”

Victor was certain that skating his free program naked would feel less embarrassing than the conversation he was having. “And, well, because of that, I thought...I tried to help. I made mistakes tying my skates. Things like that.”

“You did that ON PURPOSE?” Yuuri smiled a soft smile. “Victor, I’ve been skating since I was four years old. I can lace up my own skates. I was doing it because...you liked that. And I liked you like it.” Victor swallowed heavily. That...changed things. Sort of.

“I was confused, for a while. Didn’t know what you wanted. Whether you wanted me just for that...or if you liked me.” Yuuri had just sat up again, staring at the ceiling as if he wanted to pretend Victor wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was pure reflex when Victor slipped off the bed, to his knees, his fingers clutching Yuuri’s knees. He needed the other to understand that that, at least was nonsense, that he LOVED Yuuri – he’d said as much, hadn’t he? He was sure he had.

“Yuuri no! It’s not that at all! I wanted you before I realised...that I...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish talking. Yuuri understood him anyway and a hand settled on his own. “I know that, silly. Just took me a while to figure it out. I’ve never...done this before, you know?” Victor nodded – he did know, after all. Yuuri was as new to him as he was to the other.

The fingers tightened on his hand and he shivered. “So, when I realised that...you really liked me, that it wasn’t just something you did to everyone, I decided I wanted to...well, maybe, try it?” Victor stared up at Yuuri.

“You want to.” He broke off after three words, his attempted question coming out as a statement instead. “I...well, yes. I mean, it’s what you want, right? And I want to make you happy. I did it wrong though, didn’t I?”

He couldn’t bear the disappointment in the other man’s eyes. He’d seen it before and it made him sick. “Yuuri! No! I...you don’t have to do that. Not for me. I never expected I didn’t...want you to know.”

Admitting it was difficult. “You didn’t want me to know? But Victor, you were so...obvious.” He winced. “I didn’t...mean to be. Really.” Yuuri nodded hesitantly. “And...why didn’t you want me to know?”

He smiled sardonically, his tears slowly drying up – he had run out. “I was embarrassed. My sweet, sweet Yuuri...how could I possibly say something? To you of all people? I couldn’t risk losing you. I wanted to stop, I wanted to not want it...but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to NORMAL for you. It’s what you deserve.”

With a sigh, Yuuri slid his hand over Victor’s cheek wiping away a tear there. “Victor...that’s stupid.” He chuckled at Victor’s frown. “Victor, my Vitya, I’ve told you, haven’t I? I want you to be yourself. That’s all I want.”

Victor closed his eyes, a new wave of shame running through him, because yes, Yuuri HAD said that to him, but obviously he hadn’t KNOWN what he had been asking for, or he wouldn’t have said it…

Or would he have?

He forced his eyes open again. Yuuri didn’t LOOK like he hated him at least. Maybe there was something to be salvaged after all? He nuzzled his face against Yuuri’s knee, relieved when he wasn’t rejected.

“But this...you can’t forgive me for this, Yuuri. You don’t know what I’ve done.” A finger settled on the back of his head, tapping the same spot he’d tapped before already and his voice sounded positively sarcastic. “Don’t I?” Victor groaned. “No.” “Then tell me.” Victor shook his head, he couldn’t.

Yuuri’s fingers settled on his head, lightly tugging on his head, forcing his head up, to look at Yuuki. Victor’s whimper at it was positively pathetic.

“Tell me, Victor.” He shuddered – he wasn’t being given a choice, was he? Might as well get it over with. “I...got off on it. On the massages, the skates, on EVERYTHING. Sometimes...I touched myself to the thoughts of it. Memories. Fantasies.”

Yuuri snorted again. “Yeah, Victor, I’ve been touching myself to thoughts of you since I was fourteen. Have you SEEN my room? There are posters of you ON EVERY WALL.” Victor wasn’t in the mood to joke though.

“I...the celebration. When I took you out. I got you drunk on purpose. I...I took off your shoes and belt and...” Yuuri sighed, lightly flicking his forehead. “And then you rubbed yourself against my foot. I wasn’t passed out, Victor. I just wanted to know what you were planning, I guess.” Looking up at Yuuri, he could see that the man was furiously blushing, even though his voice was steady.

“You...knew. All this time. You KNEW.” Yuuri nodded. “You...you LET me.” He hadn’t thought Yuuri could get any redder but the man’s face proved him wrong. “I, well, yes. It didn’t bother me like I thought it would. You sounded so...” Finally, his confidence failed him and his voice broke, the shy, innocent Yuuri returning.

Victor was too busy reassessing everything in his life to notice properly. Everything he had thought was wrong. Yuuri didn’t hate him, maybe wasn’t even that disgusted. Everything he’d done, everything he thought he had been sort of keeping secret, Yuuri knew it all, had known it all along.

His eyes narrowed at the other man. “Yuuri...why did you never want to have sex with me?” Because if Yuuri was telling the truth, there should be no reason, really. “I, uh, well, at first I wasn’t sure if I could...give you what you wanted. I didn’t want to disappoint you. And then...well, we were in the middle of the Grand Prix. It just wasn’t the right time.”

Yuuri balled his hands into fists, seemingly unaware that he was still loosely holding Victor’s hair. The tug felt pleasant, far too distracting. “Yuuri...why did you think that I wouldn’t want to just...be with you?”

“I didn’t want you to have to settle for less than you need. Victor, I’ve admired you since I was a kid. Do you have any idea how...daunting that is?” He sighed. He did not – he’d never had idols, people he looked up to. Not like that anyway.

“I guess, but Yuuri...I don’t care. I don’t have to have that. I just...wanted to be with you. I thought you didn’t want me.” Victor found himself yanked backwards, upwards, his head tilted back uncomfortably but then Yuuri pressed their lips together and he whimpered into the other man’s mouth, weakly supporting himself on his thighs. The kiss was...gentle. As a counterpoint to the force and strength of his grip, the speed at which he’d been moved, the kiss itself was kind, gentle, loving.

Victor’s brain melted. When Yuuri let go, he sagged down, head falling forwards. He was pretty sure the room was spinning as he let his forehead sink against the sheets between Yuuri’s spread thighs.

“Hey, Vitya?” He hummed, too out of it to look up. “I want to have sex with you, Victor.” His head snapped up, the dizziness replaced by a sudden clarity. “You do?” Yuuri laughed a sweet, innocent expression again.

“Of course I do, silly!” He held up his hand. “We may not be able to get married yet, but I was never all that keen on waiting for that anyway.” Victor laughed – neither was he, obviously. Yuuri’s expression sobered though, the humour suddenly gone.

“We need to talk about this though. This...you need to tell me what you want. From me. Whatever it is.” Victor shuddered a full-body shiver that would have made him fall if he hadn’t already been on the floor.

“It’s okay, Yuuri. It’s not that big of a deal, really.” Maybe he thought, if he wanted it to be true enough, it wouldn’t be a lie? No, not if Yuuri’s face was anything to go by. “That’s why you’re on your knees NOW, Victor. Because it’s not a big deal.”

Victor lowered his eyes in shame. “I just...don’t know if I have the words right now.” Yuuri hummed. “Okay. I get that. Do you think you can talk about it tomorrow? We can just sleep for tonight.” Victor nodded frantically. Sleep sounded good.

It would bring some...clarity to his mind, and he needed that to process. Yuuri smiled warmly. “Then it’s decided. Let’s go have a shower, yeah?” Victor nodded eagerly, smiling as Yuuri gently disentangled himself from Victor and stepped towards the bathroom of their room.

Victor watched him go, pausing in the door with a smug look. “You coming?”

He scampered up, gracelessly stumbling after the other man.

For the first time in months, in longer than he cared to admit, he wasn’t weighed down by guilt or by regret, by worry or fear. Yuuri had met him where he was, had eased his burden with a few casual touches and words – and he knew how difficult words sometimes were for his lover.

Victor still wanted to kiss his feet, but this time out of pure gratitude. He did not. There would be time for that later. For now, Yuuri had asked for a shower and then sleep – what Yuuri wanted, Yuuri would get, no matter what. He was Victor Nikiforov. He'd personally see to it.


	3. Chapter 3

When Victor woke up he was...relaxed. His face was pressed against Yuuri’s neck, his hair tickling his own head. Arms and legs firmly entangled with each other, he wasn’t even all that bothered by the fact that his erection was pressed into Yuuri’s thigh.

The other man was still asleep of course like he often was. Victor thrust his hips forward. He was sure he was allowed that now. Even if Yuuri didn’t want it, he was sure it would be fine. Yuuri didn’t wake up and Victor whined – why did he have to be a deep sleeper?

He lifted a hand and prodded Yuuri’s nose. No reaction. He pinched it, cutting off his airflow. Yuuri’s mouth fell open and he woke with a gasp. “Victor! What are you doing?” Thankfully, Yuuri sounded fond rather than angry. Good. Fond was good. He thrust his hips forward, rubbing against Yuuri’s thigh.

The other man’s eyes widened nearly impossibly wide before his face took on a seductive smile. “Been awake for long?” “Nope. You weren’t waking up though.” Yuuri snickered. “Well, I’m glad this time you didn’t try to take advantage.”

Victor winced, the memory painful. Yuuri rolled closer to him, lightly tapping his forehead. “None of that now. I’d only be upset because that would mean I’d miss the fun part.” Victor moaned at his words. He knew without a doubt that he would NEVER do anything like what he’d done again, probably never even be able to think about it without shame… But right there, right then, Yuuri WANTED him.

Really, that was all he had ever wanted. Okay, it was 85% of what he’d wanted. He had it though, and the other 15% might not be a no either, not if Yuuri’s speech the night before was anything to go by.

So, he shifted his hips again, sighing at the simple pleasure of it. Yuuri purred, shifting a little as well and then Victor felt an answering erection press against his stomach, head swimming with the realisation of it all – Yuuri hadn’t just said those things, he’d meant them.

“So...would now be a good time to talk?” Victor carefully asked. Yuuri had wanted to talk before they...well. “We could do that. Or I could wrap my hand around you and see just HOW MUCH you want me, Vitya. Your choice.”

Victor’s head surged forwards, desperately kissing Yuuri, utterly uncaring at his morning breath. Yuuri’s breathless chuckle was utterly unlike his usual shy behaviour but it was intoxicating and Victor wanted more. Needed more.

When Yuuri’s hand reached over, trailed down his bare chest and to the hem of his boxers, Victor leaned back a little, waiting for him to reach in. When Yuuri didn’t, he leaned back to look at the other man, only to find that very same shyness and awkwardness that had been so curiously absent in the other man’s behaviour earlier.

He smiled Yuuri was adorable. “So, uhm, you want me to…?” He practically purred. “Yes, Yuuri, I ‘want you to’. Please?” He bit his lip to stop more words from spilling. If he had any luck at all, and it seemed to him that he did, he’d be asked to beg at some point anyway.

Yuuri’s fingers lifted the elastic of his boxers and his hand slid lower – he knew his lover wasn’t teasing but it felt that way until he wrapped his hand around his erection. Somehow, Yuuri knew just how to touch him, how much strength was needed, how quick he needed to move his hand.

Victor had been wanting to reciprocate, had been wanting to use his hands, his mouth to apologise to Yuuri for the way he’d behaved but then, he simply couldn’t. All he could do was quietly moan and whimper under his lover's gentle touch.

Forcing his eyes open – when had he closed them? - he saw the same brown he had come to love – a gentle, caring colour that suited Yuuri so very well. He was beautiful. Mindlessly, Victor reached forward, hands framing Yuuri’s face and pulling him down for another kiss.

This one was more passionate, less gentle, and so much BETTER in Victor’s opinion, and then Yuuri’s fingers tightened just so, on a down-stroke and he was coming, moaning quietly into Yuuri’s mouth as his hips helplessly thrust twice more.

Sated and so incredibly pleased because Yuuri, his Yuuri had finally touched him, he momentarily forgot that his lover had had no relief at all. Gasping when he realised, he quickly fumbled his hands down Yuuri’s boxers as well, only to find that Yuuri’s hand, still slick with his own come, was already wrapped around him.

Yuuri gasped out his name when Victor batted his hand away, took over. His own ministrations were as effective as Yuuri’s had been if the younger man’s cries were anything to go by. It didn’t take long – how could it? - before Yuuri spilled himself as well, his come coating Victor’s fingers.

He couldn’t help himself – he pulled away, frantically licking his fingers, desperate to get a taste. For a moment, Yuuri looked absolutely shocked and Victor froze completely, hand and tongue stilling as he stared…

And then, Yuuri leaned forward and licked the back of Victor’s fingers, tasting himself from his skin. If he’d been physically capable of it, Victor would have come again at the sight of it. As it was though, he was no longer a teenager, and it would be some time before he could even try.

He would try though, no question about it.

The two of them dozed, entirely uncaring of their soiled pants, far too buzzed to care. Eventually, it was Yuuri that moved first, stretching languidly against Victor. “Was that…?” Victor purred. “Whatever the end of that question would have been, it was wonderful, Yuuri. Thank you.”

The other man chuckled. “You don’t have to thank me.” Victor shivered. “Oh, but I do. Yuuri, I know you said you don’t mind, that it was a game to you...but I didn’t know that. I thought...to me what I did was wrong. Do you understand that?”

Yuuri nodded slowly and Victor let his gaze drop to his collarbone. “I know that Victor, but I’m telling you, it’s okay.” “To you, it’s always been okay, I suppose, but I spent MONTHS thinking I was acting like a complete monster to you. That’s...not easy to get over.”

Yuuri ran a hand – clean, Victor noted – over his forehead, almost lightly patting his head. It was soothing, more so than he would have expected. “Then...would it help if I told you it kind of turned me on a little?”

Victor stopped breathing. “I...you...what?” The Japanese skater giggled lightly. “Not at first, and I don’t think I could ever like it as much as you...but Victor, you’re beautiful. Anyone would enjoy having you on their knees for them.”

Biting his lip, he seriously reconsidered whether or not he would be able to get hard again. His body certainly seemed to be willing to try. “You...like...” “I don’t know what I like. I just know that...the thoughts of it, of seeing you like that...I like them very much.”

He cursed softly in Russian, though Yuuri no doubt got the gist of it anyway if his smile was anything to go by. “Vitya, I want to apologise to you as well.” “For what?” Yuuri owed him no apologies after all.

“Well...As you said, I knew it was a game but I didn’t know that you were beating yourself over it this much. I never wanted you to suffer. I never really thought that you would be in pain over it all.” “Oh, Yuuri...”

“Now I wish I’d been braver before, that I could have said something in Japan. You didn’t deserve this.” Victor’s curled forwards, his forehead pressed against Yuuri’s throat, hiding his face for a few moments. Yuuri didn’t seem to be aware of it but he knew full well that he was receiving far more than he deserved from the other man.

“Yuuri?” “Hm?” “Did you really think that I wouldn’t want you unless you did stuff like that?” Yuuri laughed. “I thought all sorts of stupid things. I’m glad I was wrong though. Maybe, when we’re back home, we can...try some things?”

“Such as?” “Well, what do you want, Vitya?” He groaned. So, so much – there were so many fantasies, so many variations, it was hard to pick. Then a thought came to him – one of his favourites, after all. He’d all but forgotten about it with the stress of it all.

“Well, there is one thing I would like...” Yuuri’s arm wrapped around him, pressing him closer before reaching for a tissue from the pack on his bedside table. Victor simply pressed closer, trying to think of a way to best phrase it for his lover.

“It’s one of the things I like picturing the most.” Yuuri hummed, encouraging him to go on. “After practice, in the changing rooms. I get to take your skates off, massage your feet. Then...you ask me to help you relax a little more.” He swallowed, the words suddenly almost frozen in his throat.

“You...pull me by my hair, into your lap. Make me suck you. I like imagining that you’ll...use me like that.” Yuuri moaned quietly – clearly, the other man rather liked his idea so far. Victor decided to push his luck a little. “Then...you sort of...well, you...” He broke off, unable to say it after all.

Gentle lips pressed to his head, Yuuri’s voice mumbling a quiet encouragement. It gave Victor the strength he needed and he was grateful for it. “You use your foot, to step on...me. You stroke me, through my suit, while I suck you off.”

A low growl shocked Victor – he hadn’t expected such a thing from his lover. Not that he was complaining. “So that’s your fantasy, hm?” Victor had to bite back a moan. Yuuri’s voice was lower than usual, and it was doing things to him. “One of them, yes. What...do you think?”

“I think, Vitya, that practices are going to be a lot more fun from now on.” Victor pressed closer to Yuuri. How could he have ever doubted this wonderful man? He should have known better, should have had more faith. He should have told from the beginning.

Looking up at Yuuri’s gentle face, still soft from sleep and his orgasm, he was glad that he had time to make it up to him. Yuuri didn’t think he needed to, but Victor knew better. He’d find ways to repay him for the gift he had already received, the ones he would no doubt get in the future.

He let his eyes fall closed.

Victor Nikiforov was happy. Laying in a hotel bed in Barcelona, wrapped up with his lover, their seed drying in uncomfortable places, coming off more emotional turmoil than he could remember going through, despite the lack of gold medal, despite the difficulties that had led them there...Victor was happy.

He smirked up at Yuuri.

“What’s so funny?” His lover mumbled, clearly about to drop off to sleep again. “Mhhhh...just thinking. If I’d known you were going to be like this I’d have kissed something other than your skate on television.” Yuuri completely froze under him.

“Victor. No. Absolutely not. Not ever. Just no! I have a hard enough time looking my family in the eye after what they’ve already seen! Not to mention, not to mention Yurio! And the others! Just...no!”

He laughed at his lover’s indignation, pressing a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. “Don’t worry, Yuuri – that part of you is only for me. I’d never want to share it with anyone else.” Yuuri sighed in relief, pressing his own lips against Victor’s head again.

“Ne, Vitya?” “Hm?” “I love you.” “I love you too, Yuuri. So, so much.”


End file.
